Saving the Stranger Prince (The Stranger Prince Series #2)

Chapter 21: So Alone.

"The way she shows me I'm hers, and she's mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine."
- Hozier, Cherry Wine.

♚

So what was it?

Christian stood in the room, half full of torn down paintings. There was only one painting of Adela in this room he couldn't have brought himself to tear down. He couldn't destroy it, no matter what.

Because this was the first time he had ever painted her. The day he had first seen her.

In the painting, her eyes were towards him, a smile just beginning to spread over her face.

While staring at the painting, he thought. What was it?

An obsession? A crush? Love? Lust?

What was it, that no matter how much he tried to claw her out of his system, his heart, he just couldn't? Only he knew, how by now his insides were rugged, torn apart with the effort to erase her.

He had tried everything. To hate her, despise her. To forget her. Nothing ever seemed to work when it came to her.

He closed his eyes, and asked himself. If he ever saw her again, what would he do?

Logic told him, he'd kill her. Or do worse to her. He wouldn't be able to bear the sight of her. He would cage her, and punish her for what she did to him.

But there was his heart. His poor, beaten up, defeated heart. Which knew, that he would drop down to his knees in front of her. He would beg her, if the need was felt. He would beg her to stay, and he'd do almost anything to keep her with him.

A knock on the doors shook him out of his thoughts, and he was thankful. Katherine stood there, her hair pulled back in a harsh ponytail. At night, when the palace was asleep, he had allowed her to abandon the dresses she seemed to despise.

Instead, she wore a tunic over pants, something she always found comfort in.

"I suppose you're busy, your Highness." She said, smirking his way.

He shook his head, sighing. Some part of him feared this, what he and Katherine had. It wasn't really anything they could name. If he were being honest, there was nothing at all.

But this girl, whom he knew nothing about, knew more of him than anyone else did. They bickered, they fought, said things to each other which should make them hate each other. Which could not be redeemed.

He had all the control to take her head for how she talked to him.

Instead, every time they came back to each other, they seemed to forget it all.

It was somehow tragic. How they both had no one else to turn to. In a palace full of people, they felt so entirely alone.

And maybe that was what drew him to her.

She walked over to him, slow steps. He looked all the while, until she stood right in front of him.

"I've told you to stop." She said, her eyes sharp.